Joseph Cirelli - Attack from behind

"Look at her go! I'm a son of a bitch if I ever saw anything like it!" Jake admitted, his eyes bulging with disbelief as he watched her now go for Don's long thick cock.

Her eyes were closed as she sucked it between her ovaled cum-moistened lips and Don could feel the heat of her mouth around his desire-bloated prick, and the sloshing wetness of the other men's ejaculations still staining her lips and throat.

But that lurid incitement only added to the flames of sadistic lust that he felt in his belly and he grabbed her head and began to shove his cock hurtfully and mercilessly down her throat as she gasped and choked on the gagging stiffness. But she managed to swallow and relax her throat muscles and his cock slithered hugely down her gullet, lubricated obscenely with the viscous leavings of his buddies.

And when he came, it was in bucketsful, great heaving spurts of sperm that added to the sloshing luridness already in her tiny young belly. She could barely breathe, but she sucked and swallowed until he was completely drained and then and only then did she relax, sinking exhaustedly to the floor in a crumpled, naked heap.

Jake was ready again now, and he began to roll her onto her belly, struggling to lift her near dead weight until she was on her hands and knees.

She finally summoned the strength to aid him and she lifted herself and pushed her naked buttocks out at him in naked submission. The three men looked down at her on her knees there on the floor… already, her pussy lips were pouting and distended, moist and beaded with glistening dewdrops of girlish excitement.

"Yes, yesssss…" She was whimpering animalishly, her naked bottom waving and wriggling from side to side. "Fuck me… all of you! Fuck me until I can't stand up!"

Don laughed over his beer, trying without success to envision Lou Ann as a contented housewife with a couple of kids and a color TV to watch the soap operas on. It was a hopeless attempt… he could only imagine her naked and screaming with a cock between her legs, for that was the only way he saw her for three full days, until a sheepish, humiliated younger brother came with a message from her widowed mother.

Lou Ann laughed at the note, but she was soon on her way, out of his life for good, as by that time he had met Diane and was beginning the downhill-run of their courtship. And the marriage that seemed so close to bottoming now on the shoals and tearing itself apart like a gutted ship.

"You'd better take it easy on that beer, honey," the waitress purred, leaning so close that he could feel the rising heat of her ample bosom. When he turned his head, he could see right down between her large full breasts, into the tempting depth of her cleavage.

"Why? I came out to get drunk… and drunk I'm gonna' get!" he roared loudly, his voice sounding especially raucous in the big empty room.

The bar had a kind of Country and Western decor, complete with a jukebox filled with the latest out of Nashville, and one whole wall lined with autographed photos of C amp;W names, souvenirs of the owner's frequent trips to the home of country music. He liked to brag that he had spent about as many nights at the Grand Ole Opry as Grandpa Jones.

"I wasn't worried about you gettin' drunk, honey, but I didn't want the missus storming in here and blaming me. It wouldn't be the first time."

Don looked up fiercely but ruined his image with an unexpected burp. "Excuse me… maybe you're right, I'd better slow down. What time is it, anyway?"

"Almost nine… another hour before the crowd comes rushin' through those doors," she said almost woefully.

"Shit, I'll be flat on my ass in a half hour… but I did want to see my buddies," he mumbled thickly. He could feel her standing close to his side, close enough for his bare arm to sense the warmth of her curvaceous female body.

She took off her cocktail apron and tossed it casually onto the table beside him. "C'mon, handsome… let's go get some coffee and maybe you'll be in shape for another round."

Don started to argue hut realized that it was stupid so he pushed his chair back with his legs and stood up, bracing himself uncertainly against the edge of the table against the dizzying reeling that he knew was sure to follow… it did.

"Whoa, baby… maybe I'd better let you kinda' prop on me. C'mon, we can do it together," she purred. Don fell against her, resting a lot of weight on the tall bosomy blonde. She was strong and apparently practiced at maneuvering unsteady drunks, for Don found himself moving along quite briskly as if he had had nothing to drink at all. He missed the wink that she aimed at the bartender as they slipped amiably out the side door and onto Maple Lane.

Don instinctively started to turn left, toward the Blue Plate Diner that was also the town's contract bus station and consequently was open all night. It was the only place open after nine and usually a few late-nighters straggled in for a cup of day-old coffee or some greasy eggs and bacon and cold toast.

"No, honey… this way. No sense spending money in that dump when I've got the best coffee in town right over there." She pointed to an old wooden house covered with asphalt siding and split down the middle into two railroadflat apartments. Don tensed a little, his muddied thoughts gelling as he realized that he might be making a mistake. He was no hometown boy like the rest of the yokels around here; he had lived in enough big cities to recognize when he was being taken. He stopped dead in his tracks on the sidewalk, but the woman seemed to read his thought.

"I know, I know… you're wondering why I'm doing this," she whispered though there was no one else on the street. "Well, I'm wondering myself, but let's not ask questions. By the way, my name's Lucy… what's yours?"

"Don… Don Willard," he grinned boyishly. "And I'm ashamed of myself for thinking what I was thinking."

"It couldn't be any worse than what I'm thinking, honey," she giggled.

"No, not that… I ain't ashamed of thinking that. That's only natural with a good-lookin' woman like yourself. I was thinking something else… that you might be settin' me up to get rolled."

"Rolled? Oh, baby, you cut me deep… do I look like a criminal? Is this the face of a criminal, honey? Are these the lips of a thief?" she teased. Don leaned close to her and kissed her lightly on the lips and felt her shiver anxiously beneath her tight-fitting barmaid's outfit, a one-piece dress cut high on her voluptuous thighs.

The house was cluttered and in need of straightening but not dirty. Don was pleased, for there was little that he hated more than a dirtied woman's apartment, smelling of soiled panties and stockings and littered with tissues smeared with lipstick and crumpled undergarments Lucy's place was nothing like that; in fact, it even seemed to have a pleasant fragrance all its own, which he soon attributed to the vase of freshly cut flowers that sat on the dining table.

"Sit anywhere you can make a spot… I'll go put on the coffee," she said and turned to walk down the hallway that formed one whole side of the apartment. The former house had been split exactly down the middle, and the central hall, a feature in most of the area's old homes, had been halved into two narrow corridors framed with incongruous imitation walnut paneling.

Don watched her as she walked to the kitchen, the first time he had seen her in anything brighter than the dim light of the bar. If anything, she improved in the light… she was wearing no slip beneath the summerweight dress and when she paused in the kitchen doorway – deliberately? – he could see the stark outline of her thighs and hips beneath her clothes. It was strangely exciting, maybe more so than if she had been naked, and Don found that he was watching eagerly, hoping that she would turn sideways so he could get a glimpse of her large full breasts as well. She was older than he was, though only a few years. Not enough to be called an "older woman" but enough to be mysterious and exciting… Where had she come from and what had brought her to Evansboro? And why was she working tonight, of all nights, there to be with him as he pondered the inevitable destruction of his marriage. Was it fated? Was there the hand of someone else involved? He could only shake his head and wonder… and at the same time, he knew that he would never know the answer. Or that he would want to.